Months Later
by Just.Know.That.I.Love.You
Summary: Ziva David left almost everything she had known months ago. Now, she begins to feel it is time to make a return. But the road home isn't always straight. T for mild swearing.
1. Chapter 1

**Authors Note: I haven't written anything in a long time, but for some reason I recently got the urge to write. This is my first multi-chapter fic, and I hope it goes well. No idea when I will be updating again.**

** Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS or its characters. Some days I wish I did.**

The first thing that pops into her head as she watches him walk away is why. It's a simple question, really, but it branches off into so much more. Why me? Why do all the crappy things in this world have to happen to me? Out of the seven billion or so people on the earth, why can't bad things happen to someone else for a change?

She's not stupid. She's not irrational, or unreasonable, or delusional, or any other word that would imply that she is not fully aware that all the bad in the world does not happen to her. Still, sometimes she wonders. Still, sometimes she thinks. Still, sometimes, when she looks back at her childhood she imagines a time where it wasn't her. She imagines a past where she grew up in a fully functioning family with a father and a mother, a brother and a sister, a group of people who all loved each other. She imagines a father who didn't train his kids from a young age to grow up in a painful world, but who showed them love and patience, acknowledging that it was okay to make mistakes. She imagines a mother who didn't die so young, a mother who didn't drag her kids away from their father without a decent explanation. She imagines a sister who wasn't torn from the grips of life at the young age of sixteen, who didn't experience the blinding pain as a bomb tore her apart. And most of all, she imagines a past where her brother did not make the decisions that led her to claim his life. She imagines a lot. She thinks a lot. She wishes for a lot.

Perhaps one of the things she wishes that she could change the most is her relationship with the man boarding the plane. She made her decision, a decision to chase down the past that was given to her, and she made the decision to disappear to do it. And after she made that decision, after she returned to the place where her mother was buried, and her childhood home, and her sister's grave, she was found. By the person she wanted to find her the least. For a long time during the months she was gone she deluded herself into thinking that she would never be found, and that her disappearing act would only hurt herself. She believed that she could wallow in the past forever, never coming out and facing reality. Maybe a small part of her knew that was unreasonable, but she doubts it. When she tries, she can convince herself of anything. After all, in her life she has relied on her ability to do just that. It is the only way she was able to do some of the things she has done.

She returns her attention to the airplane and the man within. She can still feel a phantom of the pressure of his lips on hers, a ghost of a promise that came too late. In her mind she traces his every move, watching the white exterior, wishing it was invisible so that she could see him better. However, she has her imagination. By now, she thinks, he is on the plane, probably storing his bag. A few moments later, she is sure that he must be in his seat fascinating his seatbelt. She details his every move in her mind, imagining and thinking until she watches the plane go down the runway. It's while she is turning away that she notices a flash of orange. She turns back, panicking. The plane is no longer a plane, but a ball of flames. Good things happen too late. Good things don't always work out. Good things are hard to manage. And as she turns away from the airfield, she is certain that is true.

* * *

Ziva David wakes with a name on her lips and a feeling of panic in her chest. The sheets on her bed are twisted around her, and she claws at them while trying to sit up. Sweat runs down the small of her back as she reaches for the bottle of water next to her on the nightstand. Her breathe catches in her chest and she begins to panic, worried that she is having another anxiety attack. In the past few months, they have become more and more common. So have the nightmares.

The one she just dragged herself from is the most common, but there are many visions that haunt her dreams. They make her nighttime word hell, and recently their effects have been dragging through into the next day. As a result, she has been sleepy and jumpy at her new job. She has only been working at Bill and Bob's Shop 'til You Drop Supermarket for a little under two weeks, and despite the fact that the job is unlike anything she has ever experienced, she loves it. It is safer than anywhere else she has ever worked. She does not have to watch her back or worry that someone she loves will die in the next few minutes. Besides, she doesn't keep contact with those she loves anymore. It is too hard.

Ziva glances at the clock next to her bed and notes that she has another two hours before she has to be at work. She is exhausted, but she knows that there is no way she will fall back asleep. Sighing, she pushes the covers off of her and grabs her running clothes, changing fast in the cool night air. The air conditioner in her small hotel room is cranked on high, and despite herself she is shivering. She wants to hop right back under the covers and sleep for a year, but she knows that if she does the dreams will return. With that thought she pulls on her running shoes and leaves the hotel room, making sure to grab her key as she leaves. She had an awkward experience earlier that week as the seedy hotel manager unlocked her room for her, peeking in at her stuff as the door swung open. To make it more awkward, she was stuck in a too small towel because she had been returning from the hotel's over-chlorinated pool. She shudders at the thought. A repeat performance is not desired.

As she walks the hall to the hotel's small exercise room she listens to the quiet. Most people are still sleeping, even though it is bordering seven o' clock on a Tuesday morning. She can faintly hear someone snoring through the thin walls, and laughs quietly to herself. Tony used to tease her about her snoring. He said that Ziva sounded like a dying truck driver, among other things. She is still laughing as she opens the door to the small exercise room and stares at the treadmill. It's the only piece of exercise machinery in the room. She sighs and wishes for the gym membership that she used to have. While she is wishing, she desires a night of full sleep and a nice clean apartment. She is getting tired of the string of crappy hotels and minimum wage jobs. Still, she knows that she asked for this. She is the one who decided to leave all she knew in order to completely find herself. And she knew it would be hard. Although she didn't think it would be this hard.

Ziva puts her water bottle on a small table next to the treadmill and pushes her headphones in her ears. She cranks the volume up high and gets lost in the music. After she steps on the treadmill and cranks the setting to where she can run 5 miles in a half hour, she allows her body to relax into the comfortable pace. The run is familiar to her, and she finds that she doesn't have to think. Her breathing and footsteps sync until she is lost in the trouble-free world of her own imagination.

* * *

Half an hour later she is covered in sweat and in the middle of an endorphin rush. She is finally positive and feels that she is on top of the world. She also feels hungry. The hotel she is staying at is not one of the sort to provide free breakfast, and she knows she will have to fend for herself. She decides that she feels like pancakes, for the first time in months. She doesn't fight it and instead decides to go with the flow. She returns to her hotel room and quickly showers, before grabbing her purse and leaving again. Years of habits have led her to be cautious as she steps into the bright morning, and she instinctively puts her hand to her hip where her gun used to be. The gun is gone, but she still has a knife in her boot. After all, old habits die hard.

She quickly walks the couple of blocks to a breakfast place she had passed a few times before. The place is pretty much empty, and her order is taken right away. The chocolate chip pancakes she ordered on a whim are eaten quickly and quietly. She tips the obviously pregnant teenage waitress 20 dollars, even though her bill came to less than that, and leaves the same way she came in. Quietly. Peacefully. Ghostlike.

She returns the hotel with only half an hour to go until her shift starts. She curses her indulgence, and quickly changes into her uniform. At any job she has had before, she was always early, rarely late, and even more rarely exactly on time. Since she started taking smaller jobs her old ways had been relaxing. At first it had been hard, but now she is used to it. Still, that doesn't mean she likes coming into work late. She is in and out of the hotel room in five minutes.

Nothing interesting happens to her at work. She stocks shelves, mans the cash register, and has an interesting conversation with an elderly lady during her lunch break. She is bored out of her skull for half the day and has the innate feeling that she has accomplished nothing by the time she clocks out. Later that night, as she sits alone in her hotel room reading a book, she pauses to ask herself what she is doing. She can't keep living like this. She can't keep living in a world where she is all alone in a sea of strangers. She always knew that this period was temporary. She knew she would never be able to leave forever. And she decides it is time to go home.

**I have been wondering what has been happening to Ziva these past few months since her character left the show. I suspect she had money to survive without working, but in my head she is trying to experience what she never got a chance to, including bad jobs. So I wrote this. I am exploring her missing months. **


	2. Chapter 2

**So Chapter Two is up! Finally. I think I know where I am going with this story now, so hopefully updates will be faster. If not, sorry, but real life is a hassle sometimes. Oh, and this will now be told in more than one POV. Thanks to one of my reviewers who suggested the idea. I appreciate it.**

** Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS or any of its characters.**

Gibbs POV

Today is a paperwork day in the office, which Gibbs hates but realizes the necessity of. They have been working for almost an hour in silence, the rarity of which causes Gibbs to look up from the work he has to do. Bishop is on the floor with her papers spread out around her, as usual. Gibbs can barely see the top of her blonde head from his seat, but trusts that she is doing what she is supposed to be doing. He glances next at Tony, who is flicking a pencil against his desk with his eyes closed, taking a break from the stacks in front of him. Gibbs catches his eye and shoots him a glare. Tony returns to the files. Gibbs flicks his eyes to the last member of the team. McGee is working diligently, and Gibbs feels a small web of pride.

He is a man who likes things a certain way. He doesn't go to the extreme with it. He isn't one of those people who needs all the cups lined up a certain way in the cupboard or all of the clothes hung in a certain order in the closet. But there are some things that he has trouble accepting changes in. His team is one of them. While he likes Bishop and thinks she is an exceptional agent, he still misses the ones there before her. Ziva David, the reckless Mossad agent who became one of few people he trusts with his life. Kate Todd, the secret service agent who was stubborn as heck and loyal down to the end. He is sure that someday he will be able to say the same about Bishop, be able to say that she was smarter than most and a damn good agent. But as of now she is still new. And something about it rubs him a little the wrong way.

Even now, years since Kate died and months since Ziva left to discover herself, Gibbs still catches himself about to say the wrong name. But recently, he has noticed it getting better. He has gotten used to the name Bishop, and it escapes his lips almost as easily and naturally as the name Dinozzo followed by a headslap does. He is set in his ways, yes, but he is also open to change. Except not with his coffee. Never with that.

Gibbs returns his attention to his own paperwork. He is filling out a report about the case they had last week, an interesting one about a drunk Marine who tried to steal a pet deer from a man's backyard. The man fired off a shot and killed the marine, and then panicked. He only wanted to scare a trespasser, never imagining he would kill him. The man called the police, who then called NCIS. The case only took a few minutes to wrap up, but the paperwork is still overwhelming.

Gibb's phone rings, and he answers it with a gruff "Hello." The voice on the other end surprises him. And he is rarely surprised.

"Gibbs, I need to talk to you. I am in DC. Can you meet me somewhere?" Ziva's voice is as familiar as he remembers, but he notices a hint of something he never noticed before. He can't place what it is. Gibbs stands up from his desk and walks immediately to the elevator, ignoring the strange glances from the team. He presses the down button, and as soon as he enters the elevator he pushes the stop button.

"Ziva, what's wrong?"

"Why would anything be wrong? I am in DC. I just wanted to see a familiar face."

"Where are you?" The address she gives him is in a seedy part of town. He briefly wonders why she is staying there before pausing. It's Ziva David. She can handle herself pretty well.

He starts the elevator and flips the phone shut. The ride to the ground floor is silent.

* * *

They meet in the lobby. As he walks into the hotel, he sees Ziva sitting in an over-plushed chair to his right. Her hair is curly, and she looks younger than he remembers.

"Gibbs," she says warmly as she stands up to greet him. He notices dark circles under her eyes that no amount of makeup could cover up. The smile she wears is genuine.

She embraces him quickly, and he feels skin and bone covered by a thin shirt. She pulls away fast and leads him out of the building. He follows her, no questions asked.

They walk to a nearby park in silence. Its early spring, and the trees are just beginning to flower. She takes a deep breath.

"I almost forgot what DC smells like in the spring." She breathes in deeply again and lets it out with a contented sigh. Gibbs watches her, and notices that she looks a little better than she did in that drab hotel.

"Why are you here, Ziva?" She stops, and Gibbs notices a brief look of…something cross her face.

"I cannot come for a visit without their being an ulterior motive?" She glances at Gibbs, then admits defeat. "Fine. I am here because I am tired of living in hotels where no one knows my name. I am tired of taking crap-jobs because I do not have a degree to work in anything and I cannot allow myself to not work. I am tired of barely talking in an entire day because I have no one to discuss things with. And I am tired of being away from those I care about." She doesn't sound angry, but she doesn't sound defeated either. She sounds accepting of the past few months. But she sounds like she does not want to live them anymore.

"So are you moving back here to DC?" His tone is neutral.

"I am debating it. I want to live in the United States. I am unsure if I want to live here though. There are a lot of…memories."

"So why did you call me?" He is genuinely confused by this. She has many friends in DC. And while he knows that he and Ziva have some sort of pseudo father-daughter relationship, he still does not understand why she would come to him before, say, Tony. Or Abby.

"I needed to talk this through with someone. Someone neutral. If I called Abby, she never would have let me leave. Neither would Tony or McGee. But I knew if I called you, you would help me do what was right." He is almost surprised at her unwavering faith in him.

"Are you looking to go back to NCIS?" He notices her pause, and suspects that she has no answer to this question. He is wrong.

"No. I cannot do that anymore. I cannot spend my days worrying about catching another criminal before he hurts someone else. I cannot take that pressure anymore. It hurts too much. Especially when the criminal trips through the cracks."

He doesn't correct her mangled idiom. They walk in silence for another few minutes. Finally, they reach the end of the path. Before they turn around, he needs an answer to one more question. An answer that will help him help her.

"Ziva, what do you _want_ to do?"

**So there's chapter two! I have never written Gibbs POV before, and it was really hard. Hope I didn't mess it up!**


	3. Chapter 3

Last Chapter

_He doesn't correct her mangled idiom. They walk in silence for another few minutes. Finally, they reach the end of the path. Before they turn around, he needs an answer to one more question, before he can help her with anything else._

_ "Ziva, what do you _want_ to do?"_

* * *

Ziva's POV

She has no answer to the question he just asked her. For most of her life she didn't have any choice in the matter, any ability to choose what she wanted. Unlike Tony, or McGee, or Gibbs, she didn't choose the path of law enforcement. She was trained since she was born to go into a life of killing, a life of protecting the innocent. She realizes that she was never innocent, not really. She killed her first man at the age of seventeen. She lost her innocence, her childhood long before that.

She thinks back, and realizes with a shock that she has never had to worry about what she wanted. She knew from the young age of three that she was going to do whatever her father told her, was going to follow in his footsteps no matter what. The ability to make a choice is foreign to her, even though she has been living under the pretense of doing exactly that these past few months. In reality, she was trapped by herself. She had no experience to do anything other than the things she was trying to escape from, and she had no desire to learn something new. But things have changed. She is different. She wants to try at _something. _Something unlike anything she has done before.

Gibbs watches her as she struggles to make her thoughts come out as words. "I want to be …normal. I want redemption. And I want peace. I thought I could get it by leaving. I thought I could get it by finding myself. But I think I am beginning to realize I cannot heal alone." The admission is a struggle. She still isn't used to saying the truth, she still wants to hide behind the wall that has served her so well over the years. And yet, to heal, to get redemption for those she has hurt and killed, she needs others too. Her family.

"So what are you going to do about it?" Gibbs looks at her with his piercing blue eyes and she gets the feeling that he can see right through her.

She straightens her back and feels her confidence begin to grow. "I am coming home."

No further words are needed. Ziva and Gibbs walk back to the hotel in a comfortable silence. Once there, Ziva makes the motion to head back to her room, when Gibbs stops her.

"Grab your stuff."

She looks at him and realizes arguing won't gain her any ground. Still, she has to try. "Gibbs, I am a big girl. I can take care of myself."

"Ziva. I'm not asking." She pauses and stares back at him.

"I do not work for you anymore Gibbs. I do not have to listen to you."

But she goes to get her stuff anyways.

* * *

Gibbs POV

Gibbs leads her to the spare room and watches as she throws her bags on the bed. She then sits on the corner and crosses her legs. Immediately, Gibbs notes the difference from the quiet woman who greeted him at the hotel, the woman who seemed withdrawn and quiet and completely un-Ziva like, and the woman who sits on the edge of the bed. This woman is different. This woman seems stronger, as if the fact that she is in someplace familiar is slowly returning her to who she was. She is becoming more confident. She is returning to the Ziva that they knew and loved.

His phone rings and he flips it open with a silent curse. Ziva glances at him questioningly, and then he sees a light of recognition in her eyes. After working for him for so long, it is easy for her to assume it's another case. She's right.

"I have to go Ziva. There's a case. You good?"

"Always." He's walking out of the room when he hears her voice again. "Gibbs?" He turns. "Do not mention this to the others. I want to tell them I am back myself."

He nods in response and walks out.

* * *

The case is short, and is resolved quite quickly with the hasty murderer behind bars. A marine was sleeping with another man's wife, and this man got mad. He took a gun, came up behind the marine as he was sleeping, and shot him. Then he shot his wife. The man tried to run, but the team caught up to him, with Tony making the final arrest. After everything is wrapped up, Gibbs lets the team go around eleven. He himself leaves the navy yard around midnight.

When he arrives at his house it is pitch black. He fumbles around in the dark for a few seconds before finding the light switch. He flips the living room light on and makes his way to the kitchen. He opens the fridge, expecting to see the same empty sight he always sees. Instead, he finds a Tupperware container full of spaghetti with a note that says FOR GIBBS in the blocky handwriting that could only belong to one person. He smiles, and then plops the spaghetti on a plate in the microwave. He stands by the counter and waits for the ding. When it comes, he takes the spaghetti out and eats alone at the table. He's in the middle of a bite of spaghetti when he hears a scream.

He's out of his chair and up the stairs to her room in a flash. She's tossing and turning, and as he walks into the room she screams again. This time, she shoots up in bed. She woke herself up.

"Ziva, what's wrong?"

She's crying, and looks almost completely broken. He isn't sure if she is fully aware of what's going on, and he doesn't want to cause her to panic.

Gingerly, he sits down on the very edge of the bed. He debates whether saying something will cause more harm than good, when a memory seizes him. "Ziva, when Kelly was a little girl she would have nightmares. She always woke up screaming, and her mother and I didn't know what to do about it. Finally, one of Shannon's coworkers suggested something that worked on her own kids." Ziva sits up in bed and wipes the tears out of her eyes. She quickly pulls herself together, and Gibbs watches as the mask she always wears comes down over her face.

"What did you guys do?"

"We started asking Kelly what her dreams were about. It was usually little stuff. She dreamed that her favorite doll grew really big and started chasing her around. Or she would dream that Shannon or I would be kidnapped, and that we were never coming back to her. Eventually, we came up with a system. First, we would ask her what her dream was about and have her tell us about it in as much detail as she could. Then, we would do whatever we had to to get her to recognize that her dream wasn't real."

Ziva pulls her knees up to her chest and rests her head on them. "You must have been a good father."

Gibbs sighs, and gets lost in old memories. After a moment, he pulls himself back to reality. "I like to think I did what I could. But it was never enough. Never enough for that beautiful little girl."

They sit in quiet for a few moments before Ziva speaks again. "I have been having this dream for a long time. I dream that I am standing at the airport as Tony boards to leave. It feels so real. I am imagining him getting on the plane, and I watch as the plane takes off. And I always, always turn away right before the explosion. And I always turn back to see a ball of flames. And I do not understand. When I wake up, I know he is fine. I know that I am being irrational. But the dream Will Not Go Away." She says the last part through gritted teeth, and Gibbs can feel the frustration coming off of her in waves, almost as real as heat off the flames of a fire.

"There's only one solution." She looks up at him. "Ziva, you need to see him. That's the only way the dreams will stop."

She stares back at her knees as he leaves the room to make a call.

**Just wanted to say thank you to everyone who has reviewed! I really appreciate the help. Even constructive criticism.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Authors Note: Wow. Real life decided to seize hold of me. The selfish thing wouldn't let me out to type up the next chapter. Until now. Thanks to Athenalarissa for reminding me that I had a story that I should probably update.**

**Disclaimer: In a parallel universe, I would own NCIS. This is not a parallel universe. All characters and the show belong to CBS.**

Tony's POV

He is wide awake when he gets the phone call. The sound of the TV muffles his groans as he picks up the phone. They just finished one case. Now it's time for another. Or at least that's what he assumes.

He answers the phone. "Gibbs. Let me guess – another case."

"It's not a case. Just come to my house. It's important."

"Gibbs, can't this wait until morning? I have plans. It's the annual late night Hitchcock marathon. This only comes once a year." Tony knows he is whining slightly, but he ignores it.

"Record it. This can't wait."

"On my way." Tony presses the end button on his phone and watches as the screen turns to black. Sighing, he presses record on his TV remote and grabs his wallet, phone, and keys. He never bothered to undress, so he doesn't have to worry about digging through the dirty laundry for a pair of pants. As he walks out the door Tony makes a mental note to catch up on stuff around the apartment. He's been too busy recently.

The drive to Gibbs' house takes less time than usual. When he arrives, Tony examines the house quickly before heading inside. It doesn't look like it's burning down. Doesn't look like there is any immediate danger. Tony wonders why he is needed here this late at night.

As usual, Gibbs' door is unlocked. Tony makes some noise as he walks inside so he doesn't accidently get shot. He knows Gibbs is expecting him, but after all, better to be safe than sorry.

"Hello?" The word rings unanswered through the mostly silent house. Tony hears some noise from above, so he climbs the stairs. Something feels off. He wonders if the late night movie marathon is putting him on edge.

"Gibbs? You here?" This time he gets a response. It's coming from Gibbs' guest room.

Tony is about to enter the room when Gibbs opens the door. He shuts it quickly behind him.

The two men stare at each other for a couple of seconds. Finally, Tony does what he does best. "Got a woman in there, boss? Does she need some help?"

Gibbs slaps him on the head and almost smiles. Or at least that's what Tony tells himself. He doesn't want to admit that it could also be a grimace. He opens his mouth again. "Seriously Gibbs. Why am I here?"

"I told you. I need your help with something." Gibbs looks like he is about to say something else, but stops. Tony watches as he turns the door handle behind him. "Just don't get mad okay? She doesn't need that right now."

Tony barely has time to wonder what Gibbs is talking about before the door swings completely open. For a moment, he stands stark still, unable to believe his own eyes. It is so unlike what he expected that he almost doesn't realize that he just predicted what was behind that door. Gibbs excuses himself and goes downstairs while Tony begins to walk into the room.

He wonders if he is dreaming as he journeys towards the figure on the bed. Because he knows she can't be sitting in the middle of Gibb's guest bedroom in an oversize Ohio State T-shirt cleaning a gun. He know that she must be in London, or Rome, or maybe even Berlin. He kind of hopes she is in Berlin, because that might mean that city means as much to her as it did to him. He can't fathom that she is here in front of him.

But she is. She glances from the gun to him and gives a sort of half smile. "Hello Tony." He can see the hint of old tears in her eyes, but right now she is not crying. Right now, she looks strong.

"Hey Ziva." Their eyes lock together, and suddenly it's like they are back in the bullpen, ignoring their paperwork in favor for something else. They have always communicated best through gazes and body language. The words, now that's where they fell short. As he looks at her, he wonders if she still thinks about that kiss. He wonders if she knew what that meant. He doesn't think he does.

He doesn't know what to say. Just another case of words falling short. He has the childish urge to make a joke, but he knows now is not the time, even though he feels that would make him feel better. The NCIS mandated therapist tells him that it is a defense mechanism. He likes to think he is just a funny guy, but deep inside wonders if the therapist is right.

Ziva slides over in the bed and Tony sits down next to her. He notices the contrast quickly. He is still in his work clothes, and his suit and hair gel have held up well. She is riddled with the marks of sleep, with bedhead hair and a rumpled shirt. Her tan skin is flushed slightly red, and he stares slightly too long at an exposed thigh before catching himself.

He thinks this should probably feel awkward, but it doesn't. She returns to cleaning her gun, and he returns to looking at her. He knows she knows he is watching her, but she doesn't stop him. Finally, he breaks the silence. "So…" The word hangs silently in the late night air.

She glances at him and huffs out a little puff of air. "I am sorry Gibbs called you. I know it is late."

"Why?" She looks at him like she isn't sure which why he is referring to. He runs through the possibilities. _Why did she leave, why is she here_… He clarifies. "Why did Gibbs call me?"

She laughs slightly at that. It's a relieved laugh, and he knows she was worried he was going into things she didn't want to talk about. But he wasn't. Not yet.

Surprisingly, she is straightforward. "He called you because I had a nightmare. When Kelly was little she had a lot of them. Gibbs and Shannon had a method of dealing with the nightmares, and step two was prove that the dream hadn't happened. So he called you." She says this matter of fact, like this kind of thing happens all the time. He begins to wonder if it does. Not the calling him part (he thinks he would notice that), but the nightmares. He had hoped they had stopped by now. But hell, if he had her life he would probably still have nightmares too.

They sit in silence for a while longer as she finishes with the gun. When she is done, she rises up and puts it underneath her pillow. Then she faces him. He automatically pushes back a lock of hair that fell into her face, and she leans in to hug him. She rests her head against his chest. "Thank you Tony."

"I was always there, you know." When she looks up at him questioningly, he explains. "You knew my phone number. You could have called me - I've dealt with your nightmares before." He thinks back to Paris and Berlin, where both times she woke up screaming. "You are not alone." She looks up at him and nods once. They settle in silence for a few moments before she draws away.

"Do you want to stay? I know it is late, and you probably should not be driving around town at this time of night. Besides, this bed is pretty big."

"Do you think Gibbs will mind? After all, this is his house. Plus, you know, the rules."

She looks up at him seriously. "I do not work for Gibbs anymore. I do not have to follow his rules." He doesn't want to think about what else that could mean. Now is not the time. She reaches to turn off the lamp by the bed as Tony pulls off his shoes, jacket, pants, and tie. He doesn't bother with modesty. She's seen it all before.

Ziva curls into a ball on her side of bed, being careful not to touch him. He knows that despite that effort by morning she will probably be laying on top of him. The woman sleeps like a starfish, and has to have the whole bed to herself. He doesn't mind. He was always one of those children who liked to share.

That night, both of them fall asleep faster than either has in the months previous. They sleep peacefully, a nice change for both of them.

**So I have no idea if the annual late night Hitchcock marathon is a thing. If it was, I could totally see Tony staying up for that. As always, reviews are appreciated, and thanks to everyone who has reviewed previously. **

**(By the way, sorry for uploading this twice. I made a few stupid typos).**


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